Just Curious
by lil miss meiling
Summary: Finally Updated! Chapter 2 is up people! Harry has been acting a bit strange lately and much to his disliking Severus has found himself wondering about the boy who lived. One night he stumbles upon Harry's journal, and slowly his feelings begin to change
1. Default Chapter

Authors Note: Well, I suppose first of all I don't own Harry Potter, that's J.K.Rowling's creation. Umm…any original characters are mine I guess, though I don't think there will be any, but just in case. This is my first Harry/Severus fic so I'm sorry if I'm a bit off. I'm not really sure where this is going, if it'll be a friendship fic, or if I'll make it more. So ya, if you have any preference just let me know heh. Also, this entire fic for the most part is Severus's point of view but if it changes you'll know. But enough blabbing, onto the fic. 

Chapter One

For starters, I do hate Harry Potter. Every fiber in my body adds to the strength with which I loathe the boy. Him with his bright, lively green eyes and always ruffled black hair. His stupid, undying courage and recklessness will one day get him killed. That's how he gets himself into so much trouble in the first place. One would think he'd tire of it after a while, but oh no, not him. He just keeps going and going. And yet, no matter what happens, even when he should have been killed, he triumphs on. Yes, I definitely hate the boy who lived. I was just curious.

t was what may appear to be a normal day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Students roamed the halls aimlessly talking about their little petty lives. Honestly I can hardly believe that when I'm old and retired these are the people who will lead the next generation of witches and wizards. It is really a frightening thought. If these children put half as much energy into their potions homework I would not be sitting here now almost on the verge of tears. Lucky for me, I haven't cried in ages. Just as I was going to refill my supply of red ink the clock struck 6:00, a sigh escaping my lips as it did.

I was truly grateful for the break in grading however a small spot of disappointment was present. Out of all the 6th year Gryffindor and Slytherin papers I felt myself almost eager to read Potter's. It left me with a somewhat relaxed feeling to smother his homework in red ink. Yet somehow I couldn't help but wonder why he was doing so poorly, worse than usual anyway. Then again, he probably is just having trouble fitting it into his busy social agenda. If that is the case then I'll have to reprimand myself later for bothering to wonder.

Making my way down the long halls of the school I took a few house points here and there. Perhaps it wasn't the nicest thing to do at the time, but it certainly made me feel a bit better after wasting minutes of my thoughts on the savior of the wizarding world. However, I must say that the creation of the D.A. was a somewhat bright idea. The students were able to get themselves out of that mess they managed to get into last year. Oh for Merlin's sake! Why do I care??

Finally entering the Great Hall I was able to escape my thoughts. Students were loudly chatting about their days as I made my way to the front. Along the way I heard what sounded like "greasy git" and make a mental note to take some extra points away later in the evening. Is it my fault if they don't pay attention to who can hear what they speak of? I was greeted by Albus and his forever twinkling blue eyes. The same eyes that always seem to be gliding past my outward appearance and right into my thoughts. It is actually quite annoying. Hasn't he ever heard of the word privacy?

Everything was just as it normally was, Albus was talking with Minerva about some muggle contraption. I on the other hand ate in utter silence, and very much liked it that way. There was something slightly amiss however. The golden Gryffindor trio that seemed ever present in danger, was now only a duet.

No matter how much I attempted to push it to the back of my mind, it was nearly impossible not to wonder why he was absent from dinner. Students are not technically forced to attend dinner but for the most part everyone was always present, except for now. Of course, he could be studying, perhaps trying to raise his potions grade. A low chuckle escapes my lips as that thought is dismissed from my head. Of course…perhaps he was plotting against me, yes, that must be it. Plotting away on how to get rid of his "greasy old git" of a potions master. I'll have to be on alert…after all, he was friends with the Weasley twins.

Finishing my dinner a tad bit early I decided to leave the Great Hall and give my head a rest. It is already horrible that my head aches after my classes, the same thing is not necessary during meal times. I decided to finish grading the 6th year papers before finally being able to rest. Pushing back my chair I stood up, giving nothing more than a nod to the headmaster who's glance seemed to be fixated on me. I glared slightly and then turned swiftly to leave, my black robes billowing behind me. Honestly, I'm quite fond of the way they billow. I don't understand how some find it absolutely awful. With a shrug of my shoulders I quickened my paces and soon enough was back in the dark, damp comfort of my dungeons. 

Indeed, they really were MY dungeons. I've taught down here for many years and surprisingly enough have become somewhat of a home to me. Some may believe I only love the darkness and become a vampire in sunlight, but that is very untrue. I enjoy a nice day just as much as the little brats roaming the halls. It just so happens that I have an appearance to maintain. Severus Snape, the ex-death eater, spy for the Order, and greasy git of a potions master. For Merlin's sake though! I'd like to see some of these insolent children spend day after day down here and see what it does to their hair. Being around potions all day is bound to have some effects.

As I sat down in the wooden chair next to my desk I can't help but wonder what possessed Dumbledore to buy these specific chairs. I'd say they are rather uncomfortable. The desk is blanketed with scattered homework assignments from the previous day, each of them decorated with my insults to their work. I swear, how some of these students made it to my N.E.W.T. potions class I'll never know. I am, however, glad to say that the younger Weasley boy finally left, he really was quite a nuisance. The Granger girl still remains though, accompanied by Potter. Speaking of which…

I look from paper to paper until I find one with the name Harry Potter scratched in the corner. The assignment had been a simple one: Record what was done in class that day or should have been done. Let me just say that I wasn't entirely shocked that Potter had gotten into my N.E.W.T. class. The boy did possess SOME knowledge in that brain of his. He just chooses not to show it much of the time. This is why I simply cannot understand what has been happening as of late. Scanning down his paper I can barely make sense of whatever it is he has written. My hand is starting to cramp from all of the corrections and it looks almost as if the paper was originally red.

When I next glance up at the clock it is nearly midnight. I have just spent 5 ½ hours grading homework and I swear if I see one more paper to grade I'm going to burn it and claim the student never passed it in. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I should bother with homework at all. Of course, it's not like I have anything else to do, so yes, I suppose it fills in the time where I would be sitting in my chambers being completely idle. 

I stand up and make my way towards the door, the lights turning off with a wave of my wand. The large wooden door creaked loudly on its rusty hunges as I shut it and walk up the long, spiral staircase towards the main floor. Of course, once I reach the endless hallway I'm met with a sight I had not expected to see. Stepping silently I slowly inch towards the nearest window, where I see none other than Potter in front of me, well, part of him at least. Trying to hide under that damned cloak of his, he doesn't use it very well, but I know it is him. My brows furrow in slight concentration. Just what is he up to.

I wasn't left with much time to think about it however, for a small "Hmm…" escaped my lips and he knew. The light clicking of his shoes filled the silence and he was gone. Yet, there was still something there in the place he had sat moments ago. As I move closer the object came clearly into view, it was a journal. Potter's journal. Now this was definitely not something that occurs everyday, not at all. My fingers lightly brush over the black leather cover, dipping down in the places where golden letters spelled out the word "JOURNAL." Not knowing what else to do I picked up the book and went back to my quarters.

Upon reaching my room the small book was tossed onto my nightstand and I collapse on my forest green armchair, a sigh of frustration leaving my mouth. Just what was I supposed to do with this book? Give it back was obvious, but just what was inside? Every passing second I felt more and more like a child on Christmas morning, craving to open the gift and see what is inside. Yet…the boy is entitled to his own privacy right? Everyone deserves at least that much. Then again, he WAS breaking school rules after all.

The picture of Potter as he sat writing flashes through my mind. His normally jubilant eyes had seemed so dull, nothing like he appeared normally. My eyes dart to the book again and I slowly rise from my seat and closer to the nightstand. With each step I feel myself drawn to the book. Without thinking I look down and the journal is in my hand, staring up at me. Oh hell, no one ever said I was fair anyway. So slowly, the cover opens. I am curious.


	2. chapter 2

Authors Note: I'd like to take this time to apologize for being such a pain. I know it took me a really really long time to update, but better late than never right? So I would like to thank my friend Got2BMione for telling me to stop being lazy, and a very special thanks to all the reviewers, for having patience and taking the time to review. And now, without further adue, I give you Chapter Two.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Taking a seat in my cozy green chair I take a moment to breathe. After all, this isn't just anyone's journal, it's Potters for goodness sake! Who would have ever guessed that of all students, his journal would end up in my hands? ...Oh well. With a shrug of my shoulders my eyes move down to the first page dated back to July of his first year starting school.  
  
Journal: I'm glad I finally have something to fill with my feelings. You wouldn't believe how hard things have been lately. My Uncle Vernon locked me in the cupboard again, only this time I didn't mean to do anything. It was Dudley's birthday so we had gone to the zoo and stopped at the snake display. It was quite amazing really, the snake could actually understand me. But then Dudley was pounding his chubby fingers on the glass. I got really upset and suddenly the glass disappeared! My uncle got really upset and tossed me in here, locking the door. I got this when no one was watching with change I've been saving as I cleaned. I'm glad. But what happened to the glass? I don't understand...and now I can talk to snakes? The only thing I could tell my uncle was that it was like magic. He didn't like that though, so now I'm here. Ugh! Someone's coming, have to go. -Harry  
  
Odd...his uncle locked him up?! Why in Merlin's name didn't the boy telling anyone of his treatment? At least then we would have been able to threaten his poor excuse of an uncle into treating him with a bit more decency. One thing is for certain, that man had better hope he doe not cross MY path. ...Wait a minute. Why do I care what he does to the Potter boy? So what if his uncle is an idiotic muggle who kept him locked in a cupboard like he was some sort of animal? I am not even that cruel, however, I bet I could come up with some pretty interesting hexes to teach that man a lesson.  
  
Sighing to myself I decide it is too late to stop reading the boy's journal now. Just the first entry was enough to get me hooked. Who knows, perhaps some of my thoughts on him will eve change, though I highly doubt that. I am sure once he gets to school and discovers he is famous his entries will change...right? Of course, why would they not? Him and his money, fame, and friends, everything he could ask for he has at his finger tips. Then again...perhaps there is more to him than I originally believed. Perhaps instead of playing this horrid mind trivia I should just continue to read. Yes, I turn the page and begin reading again, when I reach one particular entry that catches my eye.  
  
Journal: Do you remember 4 years back when I wrote about all my teachers? There was one person that I skipped, my potions professor, Professor Snape. I honestly wasn't sure what to think of him. Now, however, I think I have a pretty good idea about what I think now. At first I honestly thought he was the coldest person on earth, next to Voldemort. All the comments about my stupid scar and undeserved attention. Fame, which I might add, is for something I don't even remember :-/. Anyway, slowly my thoughts began to change and now I finally know. Professor Snape is truly one of the most brave and respectable men I know. That probably sounds inconceivable considering the things I wrote about his classes. I suppose I didn't take to him at first. He always tries to get me in trouble and scaring Neville to death. Thankfully Neville was able to drop potions for good our 6th year, I however am in the NEWT class. Anyway, back to brave and respectable. He has been doing some things that have been truly admirable. I'm sure that there are those who would despise him for it, but not me. He's just so...he's like a puzzle that I'm trying to solve. I haven't gotten all the pieces yet but I am trying. The only thing I wish is that I could tell him all this, to make him understand that I'm not my father. He'd never listen to me though...not after my rudeness and idiocy last year. Though, he'd never believe me anyway. Heh, he'd most likely sneer and take 50 points from Gryffindor for harassing him. I can hear people coming now though so I must stop. Goodnight.-Harry  
  
For a moment I could not tear my eyes away from Harry's writing. There was just no way any of it could be true, it was impossible...wasn't it? How could Harry think that I am...am admirable? Or brave? Or respectable? This simply did not make any logical sense. I mean...I do not consider what I have done any of those...well, except a bit brave. After all, how many people can say that they are spies for the Order against Voldemort, who could easily kill me with two simple words.  
  
Moving on, the choice to become a spy in my opinion was neither admirable nor respectful. It was no more and no less than the right decision. Confessing to Albus was the greatest thing I have ever done. Although it has left me with unwanted danger, never do I regret the decision I made in changing sides. Potter was correct in his beliefs though. Had he ever approached me to tell me this I would have undoubtedly told him to stop trying to kiss up and take 100 points, perhaps more. I allowed a small smirk to spread across my lips. Perhaps Potter is a bit more observant than I first thought.  
  
Though, I am very curious about what I had just read I force myself to move on to more recent times and perhaps discover what has brought about his sudden lack of effort. That is to say...he was never very skilled in potions at all, but now it was just getting ridiculous. My fingers brush through the pages as I continue to read. What I read about this past summer however, leaves my stomach in knots. There is no way all of this could be true, yet, I also know it can not be a lie. These would explain the way Har...Potter has been acting.  
  
I am not even sure I completely grasp everything. From what he has written, his cousin discovered and stole his journal. His aunt, uncle, and cousin found out and taunted him with both Diggory and Black's deaths, blaming him for them. It is outrageous! He had no part in the boy's death, he could not have known that the trophy was a portkey. Also, though it was very foolish to run off the way he and a few others did in his 5th year, he cannot be blamed for Black's death...though I do not agree that I was to blame either. But to use such events against the boy is terrible. Though...it would seem like nothing compared to what happened later. At some point his journal had revealed the fact that he was of the homosexual orientation. Something his cousin thought would be fun to experiment with. I can feel myself shudder as the words of his latest entry come to mind.  
  
Journal: I don't know what to do anymore. It's so hard to be here, surrounded by so many people. People my age who admire me and think about one day I will save them from Voldemort. I just want to get away from it all...from everything. My dreams, or memories rather have gotten worse recently, and my grades are proof of that. I hear my cousin's laughter as I scream and struggle to get away, but I'm not strong enough. I'm afraid the pain from that night will never go away. It hurts so much...I feel unclean and used...how can people stand to be near me?! Sometimes it seems like things would be better if I were gone...but that would be selfish of me. I have to be the "wizarding world savior," the "golden boy." I would have anything to just b  
  
I silently curse myself for making noise when I did. If only I had arrived a minute later so I could find out what he had meant to write. Though, if I had waited, the boy may have decided to leave, or not dropped the journal at all and then I would know none of this. There is most definitely more to Harry Potter than I first thought, more than most likely anyone thought. To have gone through so much and never allow another soul to know must be terribly hard...I mean, even I can't tolerate that amount of cruelty, and towards a child. Now I may be a bastard professor, but I would never physically harm one of my students. If it were up to me the boy's uncle and family would be cursed into oblivion.  
  
When I glance at the clock it reads 3:30am and my eyes widen slightly at the amount of time I have devoted to my thoughts on Potter. I've got to wake up in another 3 hours and get through a day of teaching those annoying brats on that small amount of rest. Even more important I have to figure out what I am going to do about Potter because I really have no idea, but now it is time for sleep. I quickly change into a pair of pajamas and slide in between the soft, silk sheets on my bed, drifting to sleep instantly.  
  
The three hours of sleep were definitely not enough for the day I knew was coming and for that reason I decided to steal another hour and a half. Skipping breakfast after all is no giant loss. Yet, for some reason I find myself cursed and cannot bring myself to fall back asleep. Half of it probably being because I am so used to my daily routine, and the other half being that my mind seems uncapable of concentrating on Har...Potter. I curse quietly, my voice not moving about a whisper. There will be none of this, no calling the boy by his first name. If not only because I hate him then because I have my nasty reputation to uphold.  
  
By the time I get out of bed it is 7:30am, my first class starts in half an hour, and I wish for nothing more than to cancel it. But my responsible part berates me and I give in, jumping into the shower and quickly soaping myself down, which takes about ten minutes. I have 15 minutes to get dressed and get to the classroom. Fifteen minutes before I am surrounded by annoying 3rd year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. As I throw on a set of my usual black robes I can't help but wonder how I will ever make it through the day, especially when it is time for Potter's class...which I still need to figure out.  
  
I make my way Into the classroom with 5 minutes to spare until the little brats arrive. Since I'm still feeling drowsy and my mind is a bit preoccupied a settle to have the students write on essay on the qualities of yesterday's potion as well as the correct way for it to be used. I write this on the board and then settle down at my desk to wait for everyone to arrive, which they do momentary. "Your instructions are on the board. I trust you all are capable of understanding them so get to work." I am not in a good mood.  
  
The class goes by smoothly for the most part, I don't get up at any time to check how accurate they are on their essays. I tell myself that to make up for not taking points I shall just be extra harsh while I am grading them. While they are working I try to grade any papers I can find, mostly in a futile attempt to keep my mind from wondering to a certain green eyes idol. The journal must be returned to him, but really, how would it look if he received it from me? Or perhaps I should just wait and not return it just yet. However, it was the state of Harry as he walked into class later that told me I had to.  
  
It was just 3:00[, as the 6th year Gryffindor and Slytherins walked into the room. I did not look at first, I wait until the room is in silence and as I stand up about to give the orders for todays lesson I see him. Potter is sitting next to Granger as usual, on he looks terrible, like he hadn't slept at all, as if he had lost something...his journal. I quickly shot my eyes and open them again to get myself together and at the last minute assign another essay. Everyone in my NEWT class looks a bit surprised but quickly take out their supplies and start working.  
  
The class goes by slower than I thought possible. It is as if time slowed just to prolong the feeling of dread I have. Finally, after 2 long hours, I am able to dismiss the class. "Mr. Potter, you will stay behind," I say as icily as possible, getting in response a nervous glance and a slight nod. After everyone ie gone we are left in silence. I have the book in my right hand, my fingers grip it tighter if at all possible. With a quick movement and the best smirk I can muster I hold out the journal. "I believe this is yours."  
  
Potter stares, his emerald eyes wide in shock, and a bit of fear. His want hit's the ground, the only sound in the room is it clattering. "Oh no..." 


End file.
